


A Midnight Clear (Epilogue)

by blackmare, Nightdog_Barks



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Mystery, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 00:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13224810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackmare/pseuds/blackmare, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightdog_Barks/pseuds/Nightdog_Barks
Summary: Title:A Midnight Clear (Epilogue)Authors:Nightdog_barks and BlackmareCharacters:House, Wilson, Cuddy, a variety of OCsRating:R, for languageWarnings:NoSpoilers:NoneSummary:Is House paranoid, or is someone really following him this holiday season?Author Notes:This is the "To be Continued" fromA Midnight Clear, and is set in another world of the Stationverse; the collected fics of this 'verse are locatedhere. The basic premise:  the universe is a multi-verse, and there are Stations that allow passage between the 'verses.  The Looking Glass Trilogy is the introduction to this ficverse.Cut text is from the 1934 filmThe Thin Man.





	A Midnight Clear (Epilogue)

_Your guess is as good as mine, baby ..._

[ _**A Midnight Clear** _ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13137414)

 

**_A Midnight Clear (Epilogue)_ **

 

"Five-spot on the Larks in nine," Wilson says, and House looks at him, but yes, Wilson has chosen this time to start betting on the World Series. He's got that little half-smile on his face, the smile the high-hat quill-jockeys at a rag like _The New Yorker_ would call _insouciant_ because it had four syllables, instead of using the good old Anglo-Saxon _fuckable_.

House knows this smile. He knows it because he sees it almost every morning when the alarm goes off and he and Wilson are cheek-by-jowl, as they say, all wrapped up in the blankets.

"No way," he says. "Hellcats'll do it five straight."

Wilson's smile gets wider, and House is just about to start wondering if the broom closet's empty when a shadow falls across the desk and he glances up.

Cuddy, that dizzy dame for whom the term _gams_ was invented, wags a scolding finger at him.

"You two know gambling's not allowed during working hours," she says, and okay, maybe she's not so dizzy. Maybe, House thinks, there's room for _three_ in the broom closet.

Cuddy rolls her eyes as if she knows exactly what he's thinking, and maybe she does. House wouldn't put it past her.

A dusting of glitter drifts down from the ceiling and falls on House's sleeve, and he grimaces as he brushes it off. The blue and silver shit is everywhere, along with the banners and bunting and disco balls and who knows what else the New Year's Eve Committee decided to run with this year. The party may have wound down, but there's still people milling around making goo-goo eyes at each other after drinking like they thought Prohibition was coming back.

Most of the _official_ festivities are done with -- they'd thrown the Old Year's Goat off the atrium balcony a few hours ago. This time some kid from Accounting had drawn the red bean; he'd spread his arms out like a drunken bird and had been damn lucky the air pad hadn't deflated when he hit.

The New Year's Babe had been a real honey, though. House was pretty sure he recognized her face and other anatomical wonders from the Follies chorus line, and she'd done a good job leading the Old Year -- _Death_ , for those in the know -- on a merry chase through the hospital hallways, dancing around as the guy in the black robes and cowl had faked some half-hearted swipes at her with his scythe.

House rubs at his eyes; he's tired but there's real work to be done on this first day of the new year. Another shadow falls across the desk, but this time it's not Cuddy.

It's the guy playing the Old Year, and when he sees House looking at him he backs away, quick, and as House watches, he slips a little black notebook from one sleeve and scribbles something down in it, fast.

House just has time to think, _Death takes notes?_ , and then the guy nods at him, once, and House catches a glimpse of the white skull makeup under the black cowl.

And then he's gone, disappearing into the scrum of party-goers by the elevators. For such a husky guy, Death's pretty light on his feet.

House shakes his head. He turns back to Wilson.

"Hellcats," he says. " _Definitely_ in five."

 

~ fin


End file.
